Savage
by OrbitZero
Summary: Ryan Kuhn becomes the Jackal. Starting with his capture, ending with his release. Insanity abounds as the delusional misogynist gives his version of the events, and remembers pieces of his waking life. No romances, strictly horror.
1. Prolouge

I wish to make it as clear as possible that I do not espouse the beliefs of this character. Warnings apply for violence and language throughout.

Prolouge

It didn't melt!

What a _ridiculous _thing to say. I must be insane!

A deranged cackled ripped out of my throat as I rolled on the ground in hysterics. The straps and cloth of the coat...they _didn't melt!_ Laughter subsiding, I gasped for air, and drew in only smoke. It hurt. Oh ho ho it _hurt._ But it'd be done with soon, and I'd get out of this! Out of dark lonely rooms and secret poisons forced into me. Out of people clawing, cold and unfeeling. Lifeless. _Boring!_

I was the only one who realised it. They were all boring! They were all dead inside, empty! But me, no! I had a divine purpose...I would save the world from the _filth _that walked it. The whores that sucked the life from every well-to-do man, trying to earn his living. Those cunts which seduced and destroyed! I'd already started my job, and then...

There was no reason to turn myself in. I just hadn't realised it yet. My purpose, my mission. It was too late! The only mistake I'd ever made was turning myself over to the doctors and the nurses. "Prodding and poking and pinching and tying and roping and twisting..." I sang to myself, the sound drowned out by the crackling of the flames. They sounded nice together. My voice, the fire, we danced together. It would accept me. It would take care of me. It would put me back onto the path of righteousness! God's own Angel of Wrath! Make me immortal, holy fires! Free me from this cage!

It spoke back. Oh, you'd have to listen, so close, so quiet a whisper amid the flames. But I heard, oh yes. I answered the call to greatness. I would become the great purifier, and destroy those wicked creatures, descendants of Lilith, the first woman, the first foul being to besmirch the good Lord's pure green Earth. Wipe them out. Cut them open. Bathe the soil in their blood. Tear the innards out. Piece by pulsating piece.

I arched my back and screamed in joy at the thought. Man would die too, for they had fallen for the harlot's wiles. She had seduced and destroyed, a disease infecting the planet. I alone saw what needed to be done.

The flames were so hot now. So hot. My hands freed, I swiped and pulled at the metal contraption about my head. The heat was nothing. I had a higher purpose, pain was nothing! My skin was seared nearly right off, but I ripped those softening bars apart one by one.

Breathing became much more difficult, and this, this is the tricky part. Breathing long enough to get the metal _off_. That damned helmet, a curse placed upon me by the _Devil _himself. How was I expected to clean this wretched Earth with the device on my head?

No more air for me now...

But not yet. Keep going. Keep pulling. Frayed metal edges, frayed metal edges. Take it apart. Methodic! Another gone! Oh, beauty, a life without iron marring it all for eternity! I laughed, weak, but strong in heart. Smoke filled my lungs. Poison. So much poison from this place.

I will fix it though. I'll fix it all.


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to my first reviewer...er, I think, anyway...?

One

"_I've got to hand myself over, Michael."_

_"You can't go through with that."  
_

_I gripped my head, pulling at my hair. "No, I can't continue this without being found out. They aren't as sympathetic to our cause!" I stood roughly from my bed, pacing the small flat. "They're watching me, I simply do know it! Even after I've gotten rid of the radio, I'm certain they've still been listening."_

_"Ryan, Ryan. You're losing your way. This is what God has intended for you. To help purify this place, to prepare it for Christ's second coming. A just God, a vengeful God, demands that you continue your work," he said._

_I laced my hands together, holding them behind my neck as I stretched, arching my back. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking. "Michael, you do not understand the way things work down here," I replied. "If I'm caught, I'll be killed. Then there will be no one left to take up where I've been forced to leave off."_

_"You'll be a martyr for a just cause!" he cried._

_"I'll be _dead!_" I shouted back angrily. "I haven't got any desire to die anytime soon!"_

_"God's will be done, Ryan," Michael said resolutely._

_I sighed, falling back down to the bed. "God's will be done." I had no reason to fear death. I was doing the Lord's work, after all. I would Ascend, perhaps become a saint later on. Many saints had been martyred, right? I knew what I was doing was right. I didn't need Michael or Mary to tell me so._

_With that in mind, I had to find a way to overcome such petty mortal emotions as fear. No fear of man or death should I have, but only the fear of God._

_"Be vigilant, dear Ryan," Mary said gently. "For you will be justly rewarded in the Kingdom of God." Mary, the mother I'd never had. A bastion of purity and hope, as any mother should be. Not at all like the cunt I'd been spawned from. Not at all like the neglectful whore!_

_"Of course," I answered, pulling on my coat and fastening the buttons. Another night playing the charmer. Another night capturing serpents in a good woman's guise. Another night destroying the scum of this Earth. Another night..._

I was ripped from my memories by a light. I'd never seen a thing like this before. Growling, angry, yellow eyes spilling light, everywhere! I watched from above. The bricks are still so rough. Little pores, textured surface, itching fingers. "The bird upon the steeple, sits high above the people..."

"Bring out the containment cube."

I twitched, looking down on the men filtering out of the monstrous vehicles. A glass box. For me? I laughed madly, and soon after, the men turned their eyes up at me. Horror written on every face, best to think twice before entering this place. "Ah-tishoo, ah-tishoo, we all fall down!" I shrieked, leaping away from the roof, through the brick walls and into the building. The fire reached every floor, leaving its black marks everywhere. Still this cursed place stood.

Suddenly, I heard the words. The strange, chanting words. A woman's voice! Rage bubbling, filling my throat, tearing out in a scream. Kill the woman, kill the whore, kill the strumpet, kill the bint! I raced down the hall. Fast, so fast, fast enough to fly! Would I reach the moon if I jumped? Was it so terrible as this place? Untouched by God's only failed creation, Mankind!

The voice stopped. But I had to kill her! I dropped through the floors, down to the first story. Through the burnt-out facade of the building, I saw them. Strange, clear coats. Glasses. With lights in them, in their eyes, in their hands! The demon lights flew frantically over the area. Looking...searching....

"The devil sends them up for me, drag me down to Hell! If my penance this must be, have no sorrow that I fell!" I sang. I cackled loudly, the sound echoing off the remnants of the walls into the night. The men with their demon lights, they would never catch me. They could not touch me. Their filthy hands, clawing, reaching, trapping! I howled angrily at the thought.

"It's up ahead!"

"Here it comes...!"

It. _It._ I snarled, curling my raw, destroyed lips back. "It?!" I shrieked. "_IT?!"_ I raked my nails across the walls, howling the cursed word out over and over. No, not an animal, not an it! Human, _better _than human! Above them all! Nothing but rats, they were the it!

I found the first it. Pounce! Clocked him, lights out, Devil magic! His light-stick fell. I scraped claws across his chest. Find the heart, destroy it! He screamed. "Helpless!" I shrieked in his face, cackling. Two others approached, making to drag this it away.

I screeched. Mine! My hunt, my kill! I jumped, tearing the throat out of one of the its, the innards spilling out of the other. I ripped them out, piece by piece, tossing them in the air.

"_Jesus Christ!_"

Back to the first. I pulled him up with one hand, peeled off his skin with the other. He screamed. Never as satisfying as the death knell of a whore. But his death was for invading _my _home!

They circled me. Looking left. Looking right. Devil magic glasses, funny demon light. I was turning round and round. I laughed, the world became a blur. "Ring a'ring of roses, a pocket full of posies, ashes ashes, we all fall down!" I screamed with delight, halting my spinning and leaping at whatever was in front of me.

The man fell, no fight at all. What a bore! That didn't stop me from desiring to claw those devil-light eyes out! I threw the glasses from his face, doing just so, holding the little jelly balls with their dangling tendrils. I didn't have proper time to enjoy this. They tried to drag the man from under me again. I grabbed their wrists, yanking hard.

What a show! What a spectacle! They flew, no cables, no wires! ..._No net!_ I shrieked with laughter as I heard two crunches one right after the other. They would not get up for their act, no not again. I went back to the work on the screaming man below me and then...

The chanting resumed.

"No!" I screeched, clawing at the cage on my head, wanting to cover my ears. The witch, her voice! I'd kill her! She stood in front of the glass box, reading from a book. I screamed as I ran to her.

"_Kalina, now!_"

Claws scraped nothing, she was gone beneath me. The glass cage slammed shut. I screamed again, slamming into the front of it, then into every wall.

"Christ. They get worse the further down the line we get."

"You only have one left to find, Dennis. Quit your blubbering. Good job, Kalina. I knew the bastard wouldn't be able to resist the urge to kill a woman." An ugly face, grinning maliciously. I hissed, and slammed myself into the wall where he stood on the other side. He laughed. I shrieked louder to drown it out.


	3. Chapter 2

I'd like to clarify some things before posting the next chapter. "Michael" and "Mary" are not THE Michael and Mary. This story is not supernatural in that sense. Michael and Mary are auditory hallucinations who feed Ryan's delusions of grandeur. It's difficult to make that clear within the story, so I wanted to make it clear here. Also, any passages in italics are flashbacks into Ryan's living life. Thank you very much to reviewers and fave'rs so far. You guys are the ones who keep me going!

Two

I awoke with a start.

I can sleep. I could always sleep, forever and ever until Jesus comes back for me. If He ever does. I was the one chosen to clean house for Him, after all. Until I faltered. I fell from His graces, and I'm sure, that day, He abandoned me as I'd abandoned His mission. But I saw it as no reason to give up on my divine protocol in death. I was bound here for a reason! I'll find salvation, and come into His good graces again!

Lips twitched. I pulled myself up to sit, arms wrapped around me, like they had been in that coat so many times before.

"Who knew ghosts slept too?"

"It's more like a battery recharging. If a ghost wants to interact with people, it can't expend all of that energy crossing into our plane without resting up first."

"No one asked for a crash course in parapsychology, Dennis."

"Either way at least the god damn thing was quiet for awhile."

"Thing?!" I screeched with renewed vigour. I threw myself at the glass wall in the direction of the voice.

"Way to fucking go, Baley."

I scraped the glass with my claws. They were a gift given to me when I'd died. My fingernails, the useless things, had been ripped off when Mary and Michael abandoned me for betraying the cause. The fact that I was given these in death told me all I needed to know of how to spend my afterlife.

Motion. The box was moving. Moving...down? A cellar. The dark.

"Nooooo!" I screamed, pounding on the glass. Break! Break! Dear fucking Christ in Heaven why doesn't it break?! "Nooo!" I slammed the cage on my head against the glass. Pain surged through my neck, up into my brain. I couldn't be left to the dark below again! I screamed over and over until...

I was dumped roughly into a small room. I scrambled to my feet. Tear apart the fool who thought I could be kept a prisoner! I am the Vengeance of God! I howled, finding only another glass wall. The wretched symbols flared to life at my touch, more demon lights.

"You crazy fuck, stop your screaming, will ya? You aren't getting out of there, none of us are!"

Ignore it! Can't give up, get out of the dark. Get out of the cupboard. Get out of the cellar. Get out of the confines. Get out of this place! "Noooooo!" I screeched, slamming into the walls again and again, forever and ever and ever...

_"Mum!" I wailed. Why had she left me in here? I was a good little boy. I'd be a good boy. Just let me out of this cupboard, I didn't need to be kept in here! I knew she had work to do, she was getting the money to keep us a home and food and clothes and-_

_But I was terrified! Mummy why'd you leave me in here again tonight?! I promised, I promised so much that I'd be a good boy, I wouldn't break any of your things ever again while you were out. I'm so sorry mummy just please let me out!_

_I crossed my arms about myself, rocking back and forth. It was so dark! So scary! There were monsters in here, I'm sure of it! Their breathing in my ears! Oh God mummy, save me, they're going to kill me! Please, just open the door mummy, I'll never touch anything again!_

I didn't remember stopping. But somehow I found myself on the floor now in a heap. I began to pant, but there was no air for me anymore.

"Thank fucking God."

"What in the hell is your problem man?"

I grinned. These people. Their silly words. Didn't they hear themselves? They weren't making any sense! I giggled at them, squeezing my eyes shut. I couldn't help but laugh, more and more, louder and louder. I had to laugh so hard that I began rolling back and forth, kicking the walls.

"A lost soul if'n there ever was one."

"Lost?" I cried. "Never lost!" I laughed even harder at the bint's remark. Were they all so dumb as this? I took my first real glimpse around the room, spotting mostly women. _That _explained all the stupidity! "Lost souls in bloody holes, six feet deep not a peep!"

"I don't like that man. He's a bad man," the little boy cried.

"Hush, Billy, why don't we play a game?" a burnt-up old hag offered. "I spy with my little eye something green."

"The leaves on the trees outside those windows down there?" he answered.

My lip curled. The next worst thing after a whore was her progeny. Jesus loved the little children. But I couldn't fucking stand them!

"Good job!" the hag replied.

"I spy with my little eye-"

I screamed wordlessly. No games. No fun here in the below.

"I _said_, I spy with my-"

Louder this time, feet pounding the glass walls.

"Will you cut it out you freak?!"

"Don't address me, whore! You aren't worth the cloth you were hanged by!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and pressing against the glass. I stared at the slut in her revealing dress, which looked like it'd once been white. White! No woman had a right to wear that colour!

"At least I could get fucked!" she spat angrily.

I grinned slowly. I turned my eyes up at the hanging cunt. "I fucked _plenty," _I purred. "Plenty of pretty little whores, slitting their throats, the blood spilling over their breasts..." I forced out a moan, tensing my claws against the glass, eyes rolling into the back of my head. I watched her cringe, and smiled.

"That's enough!" a deep voice bellowed, and sparks flew as the tall man from across the way slammed his hammer-hand into the glass wall. Even that did not shatter it! "Not gonna have that kind of sick talk in here! Bad enough I'm trapped with you people, not gonna listen to some crazy little asshole goin' on about indecent shit like that..."

I giggled, receding to a corner.

"I spy with my little eye...."


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks to all reviewers, readers, favers, alerters and just generally nice people who look at these words.

Three

Upon first dying, one might find themselves at sixes and sevens, blustering like a fool when they realise the corpse at their feet is _theirs!_ I, however, had no such problem. The minute I died, I leaped in the flaming air for joy. I even watched as the fire actually consumed my body-I passed due to smoke inhalation, not from burns-eating away that wretched jacket, melting the skin on my pallid face, eyeballs running, hair burning, bones charring...

After one spends their time blubbering over their own death, they might begin to realise the things they can do as a spirit that were impossible to do in life. One such impossibility I found myself engaging in was recalling, with perfect clarity, events in my life that have long since passed. After being captured somehow, I spent most of my time reliving those memories out of sheer boredom.

For now, I was recalling the first time Michael and Mary came to me with their offer of guidance.

_"Well ain't you jus' lookin' like you was born in the purple!"_

_I felt my lip twitch a bit at the sound of her screeching voice. She was like a harpy, if it'd been born in the East End. She pinched my cheeks roughly, painted lips split in a grin revealing crooked, yellow teeth. I thanked God every day I hadn't inherited her mouth. Her harlot friends swooped in, patting down my long hair and tugging at my wool coat. I started to regret ever buying the bloody thing, given the way they were reacting. But, in all actuality, it was their behaviour which had driven me to become so interested in it to begin with._

_My mother was a tart. Pure and simple. Low class, disgusting, unintelligent, and all around useless trash. I would _not _follow suit. I realised from a young age that I could not be at all like her and the people she raised me around. I'd groomed myself after the images of high-society aristocrats. Whether that image came from books or momentary observations, I did my best to mirror it just so in terms of mannerisms and speaking. I'd been lucky enough to be able to attend school and learn to read, among other things. I devoured any book I could get my hands on, knowing that a wealth of knowledge was imperative in blending in with the higher class. I had my sights set on becoming someone worthy of note, unlike my trollop of a mother and her 'community' of whores._

_"He's a right little gent, eh, Winnie?" one of her friends said, attempting to appear provocative as she batted her eyelashes at me. I'd have retched if I were wearing cheaper clothing._

_"Where'd you even find the money to buy that, Ryan?" my mother asked in an accusatory tone._

_"I've got a job, too, mother. A far sight more respectable than your own," I responded, finally breaking free of the pecking hens._

_"Oi, mind me Ryan!" she cried, grabbing me by my hair and pulling hard. Her friends went silent, used to our particular brand of mother-son 'bonding'. "It's a good bit o'money you spent on that coat, a good bit o'money you could've bothered to spend on your poor ole mum! You selfish little snot!"_

_"Mother, don't froth at the mouth so. Your make-up is running," I said, turning back towards the door and grabbing the key off of the hook on the wall._

_She gave a wordless scream, and jumped on my back, pulling my hair and pounding on my head. With a grunt, I spun, slamming her back between me and the door. She let go, and I grabbed her by the throat. "I do _not _have time for this you worthless slag, " I snarled. The fear in her eyes was rewarding. __I squeezed her throat a little tighter. That small bit of resistance was enticing. It was a challenge, tempting me to keep squeezing until that resistance was snapped, her windpipe crushed, leaving her gasping for air, choking on the ground..._

_"Let 'er go!"_

_"Ryan, stop it!"_

_I tossed her to the side, and immediately she began her histrionics-choking, crying, whimpering. Her friends ran to her, offering her platitudes. "Oh, 'e's always been such a rotten boy!"_

_"Turn 'im in to a madhouse, 'e's a complete nutter!"_

_"'e needs a good beatin', 'e does."_

_I ignored them, straightening my coat and smoothing my hair. Without another glance, I left the gaggle of crones behind to satiate their comrade's need for attention and pity. "Poor lit'el Sally,'" they'd say. "Stuck wit' that 'orrible son o' 'ers." Pathetic._

_I was realising more and more each day that women everywhere were just as bad as the prostitues and 'escorts' I had grown up around. Since having been spurned by Catherine, it'd become clear as day to me that I'd been blinded to the truth of the vileness of women by what I'd thought was love. Liars, cheats, and whores, the lot of them, with only a fixture upon how much money a man had. The more to suck from him, the better. Oscar Wilde said it best when he wrote that women were a decorative sex. "Nothing to say, but they say it charmingly." They had no concept of caring for someone other than themselves, no idea of love. They were all snakes, daughters of Satan. Lying in wait, projecting an image of sweetness and an air of kindness to draw in some poor unsuspecting sap. And that's when they struck. "Let's get married, sweetie," they'd say. "Buy me a dress. Buy me dozens of dresses to look pretty for you. Buy me gems. Buy me an estate. Buy me this, buy me that!" Marriage and courtship was simply another form of prostitution-the woman fucked the man, and he paid for whatever she wanted to keep fucking her._

_It was a shame so many good men were wrapped up in the idea of marrying. I had been, once. I'd poured my heart out to the little cunt, writing her poetry, slipping her eloquent letters on my love for her, sharing my entire fucking self with her, only to be scoffed at, mocked, insulted for my class, discarded like trash! After all I'd done! Everything I'd given to her! Didn't she realise any woman would _die _for me to treat them thusly?!_

_I hadn't realised it, but these thoughts had driven me to breathe more rapidly, attracting the attention of several passers-by. My fists had been clenched tightly, nails dug into the palm of my free hand. I evened my breathing, and opened my hands. Little crescents of blood were imprinted in the skin. I pulled the kerchief from my pocket, glancing around to see if anyone was looking, and quickly swiped at the tiny wounds._

_I sighed, continuing my walk to the small park. A small bit of green solace in the grey, busy city. I strolled through the gate, taking the path halfway around before sitting on the nearest bench. I opened my book to try to read, but I could not concentrate. Lilting birdsong distracted me from the words on the pages, and I looked up into the trees to find them. There were birds here that weren't disgusting pigeons. Birds that sang their pretty songs in this otherwise desolate place._

_"Those birds are like you, Ryan."  
__  
I whipped around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. There was no one. Hesitantly, I sat back against the bench, thinking perhaps I'd just been hearing things._

_"Those birds, they're beautiful and rare, standing out amongst the hordes of the common pigeons."_

_"Excuse me? Come out!" I cried to whatever woman was teasing me, standing to my feet. "Come out and show yourself."_

_"I can't let them see me, Ryan."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Hush. Don't speak out loud. They'll hear you. They'll put you away."_

_"Who?" I whispered._

_"All of them. Man and woman alike. Keep it in your head, Ryan. I can hear your thoughts."_

Oh really? _I thought sarcastically._

_"Yes, really."_

_"Fuck," I muttered, scrambling to my feet again, putting my hands over my ears. "No, no, this is definitely a crock of shit, no."_

_"Stay calm. Don't let them see you!" Another voice! A man this time. Even with my hands over my ears, I could still hear it as if it were whispering right into my ear. "Just as Mary has said, they'll be watching!"_

Who are you then, and how can you hear my thoughts?_ I hissed._

_"I am Michael the Archangel."_

_"I am Mary, Mother of God."_

_I processed these thoughts for a moment. An archangel, and the Virgin Mother? Speaking to me? I burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over, forgetting myself. "Right enough!" I choked out between laughs._

_"If it were not so, how then, Ryan, could we hear your thoughts?" Michael asked._

_My laughter was cut short. I brushed the tears out of my eyes, straightening myself up. "You..you can't be," I whispered._

_"But we are, dear Ryan," Mary said gently._

_"God Himself has asked us to accompany you, the last bastion of purity on His once good Earth," Michael explained. "He has given you a task, and we are to guide you through it, so that you may __remain vigilant in performing it."_

A task? What task? _I thought, glancing around the garden, suddenly quite paranoid that I was being watched as the two Heavenly beings had said. Surely they would not lie to me._

_"We can not tell you, for you will know for yourself the Lord's work when you have finally performed it."_

How could I possibly know?

_"When the time comes, you will."_


	5. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing so far.

Four  
_  
It was nearly two in the morning by the time I decided to return home. I'd lost track of time in speaking with the voices, pretending as if I were reading my book the whole time. When it came time to leave, I felt compelled to take a roundabout route back to the shoddy flat I shared with my mother. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was, indeed, watching me, stalking me, even. Every glance I threw over my shoulder revealed nothing, but I swore there was someone behind me. Even as the night wore on, and barely any one but myself wandered the streets, I kept my guard up. Whoever was following me would most definitely be doing so in order to threaten my well being, to put a stop to my realisation of my cause, whatever it may be._

_I entered my home as quietly as possible. I heard her moaning in the next room. The door was closed. Another man, another paycheck. Disgusting. I removed my clothing carefully, wanting to keep the one good suit I had in as perfect a shape as possible. I put it away on its hanger, and donned the more dirty and worn-out bed clothes. I sat on the couch which served as my bed, crossing my arms against my chest as I waited for her client to finish._

_Each moan and grunt echoed in my head, louder and louder. I felt a strange sensation build up in my throat. I wanted to scream. I gritted my teeth, grinding them against each other as I heard the whore shout out her climax, moaning as if to tell the man of her love for him. Love she had for complete stranger. It came so easy to her to tell them. Did she save all good words for these pathetic, lonely men, and leave none for me? My breathing quickened, and I drew in short, sharp breaths. The door opened, revealing a pudgy bastard in a dirty brown coat. He slipped his hat on his head, walking towards the door, glancing nervously at me. "Evenin'," I heard him mutter with a tip of his hat as he left. I stared at the door to my mother's bedroom._

_She wandered out slowly, one strap of her bodice fallen from her shoulder. Her dark hair was in disarray as she leaned against the frame of the door with a sigh. I stood abruptly, and she started, eyes going wide. "Now when did you get back?" she asked. "Di'n't I tell you I don't want you wanderin' the bloody streets all night?"_

_"Afraid I'll take some business away from you?" I replied. "Sleep with a competitor on the opposite corner?"_

_"I 'aven't got a clue wot's crawled up your lit'el bum, but you better come off it!" she said angrily._

_I rushed her, grabbing her by the throat once again, but this time tackling her to the ground. Both hands wrapped around her thin white neck, legs straddling her waist as I pressed her to the floor. She flailed, unable to scream. The only sound that came out of her was a sick sort of gurgling gasp as I pressed tighter and tighter. She kicked her legs, and clawed her long nails on my back, my arms, my chest, occasionally reaching desperately from my face. I gritted my teeth as I squeezed even more. I wanted to feel it, feel her throat collapse in on itself. Feel the satisfying snap as it gave way. Her eyes began to bulge out of her head as she turned a peculiar shade of purple. Her attempts to stop me grew weaker, hands merely sliding over my arms uselessly. Her veins popped out, the gurgling stopped, and then, it was over as her larynx was crushed between my hands._

_The only sound in the dark flat were my quick, ragged breaths._

_Slowly, I drew my fingers from her mangled neck. Blood was pooling in her mouth. The rage was gone. My throat no longer itched with the urge to scream. I trailed a finger over her gaping lips. And I laughed. God, did I laugh. Like someone just told me the best joke in the world, I laughed. I slid from her waist, rolling onto the ground beside her corpse, and I laughed._

_I stood up, glancing at the door. Neither of us had made too much noise. No one would've heard us. I picked her up, and lay her in her bed, arranging her body just so. Legs spread, arms fallen uselessly to her side. Why, no, officer, I haven't got a clue as to how my poor, dear mother died...Why yes, she was a prostitute, and I do suppose that one of her customers could have done this to her...Oh, what a cruel world!_

_I laughed again, sauntering back to the couch._

_This was it. This was the assignment God had given me. To rid the world of foul creatures like her. I smiled widely as I lay down on the couch. I'd found my mission in life._

Clang!

Jumped to bare toes with a start. That noise! I searched for the source of it, and saw just down the lane a tall man with a slack jaw and a tuft of blond hair. A corpse riddled with bullet holes. Tall, so tall, like the giants from fairy tales. Would he grind up my bones to make some bread? I snickered to myself.

"What's your name?" the burnt one asked him.

"Horace, ma'am," he answered. Another American with an abysmal accent!

"How is it that you died, Horace?"

"Bullets, ma'am. The cops got me fer killin' some girls."

"The divine purpose!" I shouted to him. A kindred soul! Perhaps not so abysmal after all! But the giant oaf only returned a confused stare.

"Don't mind him," the hung whore said. "None of us do."

"I mind him!" I cried, slamming my fists against the glass.

"Shut up, wack-job," the mangled boy said. "No one gives a shit."

I growled. Had we been alive, the hung whore and the mangled boy would be the first to die. I'd claw his eyes out and feed them to her. I'd rip her throat out then feed them to her again. I'd heard the cunt brag to the others of her conquest over weaker men. Not I, though. The bloody slag would never seduce me. She deserved her death, and whoever had done the deed should have been hailed as a hero!

I entertained the thought of hanging her from the gates of the ruins of the asylum, and laughed.


	6. Chapter 5

_The next day I'd called the police. I don't mean to give the impression of arrogance, but I feel I gave quite a good act. I was frantic, stumbling over my words on purpose in order to appear distressed. They'd inspected the area, and her body. I told them she worked as a prostitute, even lied well enough in an attempt to defend her chosen method of work. "It's the only way she could support herself," I'd said. I choked out the words. But only because I couldn't stomach them._

They took her body away. In the following week, there was a funeral service, and legal matters to sort out. I'd inherited what tiny bit of money she'd had stashed away for the next rent payment, and food. I became the primary tenant of the flat in her place, and almost immediately I began to sell off whatever items of hers I could. Dresses, hair brushes, jewelry, nick-nacks, shoes, whatever was hers that was likely to be bought. The rest went in the garbage. I put the money towards a new bed. I couldn't stand the thought of anything belonging to her coming in contact with my body.

Mary and Michael had returned to congratulate me on finding my purpose. They'd told me to prepare myself for the long road ahead. "Charm them, seduce them, kill them, purify them," Michael advised. "They've lain with the Serpent, and in doing so have become one themselves."

So I would be the snake-charmer. I would kill the serpents.

---

I'd spent days poring over books of etiquette and fashion, learning just what was acceptable and what would expose me as a fool, or an impostor of sorts. My one morning coat certainly would not do for my newest endeavour. When finally I'd acquired the necessary pieces of clothing and an indoctrination in formalities, I was ready for it.

I looked myself over in the mirror as I tied the cravat around my neck, following the directions from one of the books. I raised a gloved hand to my pale face, brushing my fingers along my jawline. Was I ever _going to grow any facial hair? How utterly frustrating in a time when that was considered the proper fashion. It would also mark me as a younger man. I'd likely be assumed to be ignorant. Well, in that, I could be sure to prove them wrong. I should have gotten a haircut, but I'd spent so much money and focus on the clothing and the books that I'd forgotten about proper hair all the while. I couldn't risk cutting it on my own and looking like a fool, and simply did the best I could. It was damnably long, though, nearly reaching past my shoulders, and quite thick. One friend of mine had taken to calling me Mr. Wilde due to it, as well as my penchant for writing and literature, which he knew irritated me so. I'd certainly have to rectify this soon._

Finally, I smoothed over any wrinkle or crease I could, fluffed the cravat, and gave one final glance to myself before leaving.

The whore would never see it coming.

---

"Oh my goodness...Ryan? Ryan Kuhn?"

_I smiled politely, bowing at the waist and bringing her gloved hand to my lips. "Catherine," I replied. "Delighted to see you again."_

It'd been considerably easier than I thought it would to slip into the place. It had been a wedding party for someone or another, and I'd been able to pick an invitation from an unsuspecting pocket. At formal events this large-for the bride and groom were apparently worthy of note-no one really knew all of the attendants by their faces. Once I'd flashed the invitation, I was ushered in to the reception without a second thought. If the man were to return crying about his missing invitation, they'd think he _were the impostor, not I._

"'_Again'?" echoed the aging man beside her. Her father._

"Ryan Kuhn, sir," I said, extending my hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm well, Mr. Kuhn. And yourself?"

"Just fine, sir."

Catherine was eying me as I spoke with her father. Oh, it wasn't that I'd changed much at all. Simply that I appeared as if I had. New money_, she'd likely thought. _A reason to like him.

_The room was large, and perhaps the most grandiose thing I'd ever seen in my life. A refreshing change of pace. Several couples dancing to the music of the small orchestra at the centre of it all. I spoke with Catherine's father, still, as was the proper thing to do. Politics, current events, the usual things. Midway through the conversation he'd invited me to sit with them at their table._

"...and I've even heard those bloody Americans have invented a flying machine,"_ her father, Richard, continued on. "Can you believe it?" He let out a polite laugh."They're calling it an airplane."_

"Mm," I replied, with a shake of my head. "Can you imagine? I can't help but wonder the genius behind such an invention. Of course, I've never been much of a physicist myself."

"Ah, then what trade would it be that you've taken up?"

"Oh, ideally? Poetry and literature. Isn't that right, Catherine?" I said, turning a viciously sardonic smile towards her. She missed it entirely, the oblivious twat.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Kuhn's actually quite a poet, and an exceptionally eloquent story-teller," she replied with a nod, looking to her father. Oh yes, quite the poet and writer when he looks like he's got the fucking money to buy her pretty things. Not when he's a low-class son of a whore!

"Quite," Richard said neutrally, though his discontent for the response was plain.

"But of course," I continued, "One can't be expected to earn a decent wage off of that, now can one? I worked as a paperboy as a child every day after school, in order to help my dear old mother make the rent, God rest her soul. Now I've gotten a job in my father's office. Leave the writing for whatever spare time I might be able to find." I had to make her believe I was no longer just a poor boy living with his tart of a mother. No, she had to think I'd been the son of some rich businessman all along, having just recently come into the position with the death of my mother. I could not, however, attempt to brag such a point. It would be very rude, after all.

"It's a very important lesson to learn, the value of money," Richard said with a nod. "Knowing that lesson earns quite a bit of respect, if I do say so myself. Good on you, sir."

I smiled politely, and nodded back. "Thank you, sir."

I'd noticed the music was winding down for the evening as fewer couples took to the dance floor. The time was getting closer. "Care to retire to the parlour for a brandy, Mr. Kuhn? I'm sure the other gents would fancy having around a man as well-versed as you are."

"Thank you, Mr. Young, but I am afraid I can't. I'll have to head home for the evening."

"I think I would like to do the same, father," Catherine said, turning to the older man. "May I be seen home by Mr. Kuhn?"  


_I would have grinned if it would not have perhaps given away my intentions._

"Very well, Catherine. Do be careful, the two of you," he said. "Good evening."

"Good evening, sir."

Catherine smiled to me as she slipped her arm around mine. The touch made that itching sensation in my throat return, and I wanted to scream and gut her right there. I took a deep breath. There would be a time for it, soon.

"I can't believe how much you've changed, Ryan!" she exclaimed, smiling up at me. "It's been nearly a year. You look wonderful!"

"Come now, darling," I replied with a grin. "I haven't changed all that much."

"But where ever did you find the money to buy those clothes? I remember you wore the same two pairs of clothing for nearly a year straight, holes and all!" She laughed politely. I forced myself to do the same as we strolled down the pavement. I should have taken up acting, apparently.

"I suppose I was lucky enough to come into a bit of money," I answered. "Upon my mother's death, I was sought out by my father. He'd never even known I existed, apparently. I must say, it is quite a change going from a pittance with my mother to the sort of money he's got."

"Why wasn't he present tonight?" she asked.

"He's a bit ill. Didn't want to risk it."

We came upon the park. My heart beat faster. I felt my hands sweating under my gloves.

"Oh, remember this?" Catherine said with a sweet smile. "It's the park you read me your poems in. They were always so lovely, Ryan. Shall we take a quick stroll? My home isn't too much further."

"Whatever you wish," I said with a nod. She was doing my job for me. I hadn't needed to request to walk her home, or ask her to come to the park. The dumb cunt was doing it all! Would she off herself, too?

_"It's so quiet," she said, looking up at me through her lashes. "Not a soul in sight."  
__  
"Indeed," I said._

Her arm snaked around my waist, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. "I always did find you to be quite attractive, Ryan," she said, nearly whispering. "It's unfortunate we ever stopped speaking."

My lip twitched. The irony of it all. "Why was that, after all, dear Catherine?" I asked, cocking my head slightly and narrowing my eyes.

"Oh, I can't remember. Likely some frivolity, as these things often go," she said, giving a polite laugh.

"Mm, well," I said with a shake of my head. We were nearing the deepest part of the park. "I think it was something about my lack of money, wasn't it?"

"Ryan, come now, I don't think-"

"Ah, yes, that was right," I said with a harsh laugh. "You couldn't be seen with Ryan Kuhn, the prostitute's son. After all, what would that do for your reputation? Regardless of all the poems he'd written for you, the letters he sent you, the flowers, the sweets...None of it made up for the fact that he was never going to be anything more than some Cockney whore's lower-class spawn, hmm? A leech, was what you called me, wasn't it?"

"Ryan!" she cried, pulling away from me. Her brown eyes were ready to tear up. "Why are you doing this? We were having such a nice evening..."

"Because there's a lesson you should learn, my dear Catherine," I said, advancing on her as I pulled my gloves off, forcing her back towards a patch of trees. "You should learn, sweetie, that you're no better than the prostitutes you ridicule and insult. That you are, in fact, just like them."

"How d-dare you!" she shouted, still stepping backwards. We were in the cover of the small patch of woods. "I will not stand by as you insult me!"

I grabbed her roughly by the wrist, pulling her close to me. With my other hand, I grabbed her by the chin, looking at her tearful eyes. "You have killed my love," I recited, though I doubt she had any idea what I was talking about. "You used to stir my imagination. Now you don't even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect." She stared back in confusion, lips quivering. "Pitiful little slag," I murmured. Before she had a chance to respond, I pressed my lips against hers. My tongue slipped into her mouth, and she bit it hard. I drew back, tasting blood. I wanted it to be hers. I slapped her, sending her to the grass beneath us.

In an instant, I was straddling her, one hand covering her mouth and the other ripping open her bodice. I pulled at the cloth, ripping just enough off to stuff into her mouth and stop her from screaming. She kicked at me, smacked me in the face. I grinned at her. It was exhilarating. Not at all like what I'd felt when I'd killed my mother. No, this time, I felt the blood rush to my loins, that familiar hardness on my inner thigh as I continued to rip her clothing apart, forcing her skirts up and her knickers down. Her eyes went wide as she realised what I was about to do.

"It didn't have to be this way, cunt," I said as I pulled my own trousers down. I leaned close to her _now, close enough to hear her breathing. I licked at her neck, trailing my tongue up to her ear. "You __could've been the only good woman on this Earth," I whispered, bringing one of my hands up to stroke her cheek. She let out a muffled sob. "But even you were just like the rest of them," I snarled, thrusting myself into her, biting down on her neck roughly._

I sat up, gripping the sides of her reddened face. Brushing away several stray tears, my thumbs came to rest near her eyes. Those persecuting, condescending eyes. I shoved my thumbs into her sockets. Her screams were muffled, but still enough to make me moan. My thumbs sank deeper into her eyes, blood pooling up around them, leaking down the sides of her face. The more she tried to scream behind her gag the faster I thrust into her. I felt something in her eyes give way, and my thumbs slipped forward, and she began shaking violently, convulsing. A jolt ran through me, a thrill I got from it all. And then she was still, lifeless. "Oh fuck, you whore," I choked out, pulling my thumbs out of her sockets and slapping her across the face again. With a final thrust, I groaned out my climax, spilling my seed into her cunt.

I slumped over onto her chest, panting hard, caressing her breast. "May God have mercy on your soul," I whispered. I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by the sudden rush of calm. I sat up, quickly wiping the blood on my hands thoroughly onto her dress. Pulling out of her, I stood, dressing myself. I quickly searched the area for anything that may have linked her death to me.

Then, I slammed my own fist into my face, biting down on my already sore tongue as I did so. I did it once more, causing myself to become dizzy. I wobbled back to the pavement path which snaked through the park, and once more attacked myself, pulling at my own hair, scratching at my own eyes, pulling at my cravat, mussing up my clothing. Finally, I pulled on my clean gloves, and fell to the pavement, face first.

Then it all went black.


End file.
